Curing Dean
by WutTheHeckyPadalecki
Summary: Demon Dean doesn't care. He doesn't care about Sam and he doesn't care about Castiel, but Cas has to make him care to save him. Oneshot. Ideal for a post-season 9 finale feels trip.


The last time Castiel had been in Hell, he screwed everything up. He had left Sam's soul in the pit, and he had put Dean through even more suffering. Because that's just what the older Winchester needed. More suffering.

He only hoped he would get it right this time.

Dean knew Cas was here. He wasn't stupid. He was simply waiting for Cas to present himself, which Cas did. He walked right past the heavy doors of screaming souls, right into the hellfire-lit throne room, right in front of the magnificent chair made of mangled bones where Dean Winchester sat.

"Castiel. What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

Cas had to fight every urge he had to run from how _wrong_ Dean felt. He wasn't the familiar, easy-going, selfless man Cas knew. He was a different being with a soul warped beyond recognition. And yet, Castiel still loved him.

"Dean," Castiel almost whispered, trying not to let his voice break. "Please talk to me. Please let me in."

"We're talking right now!" Dean crooned with a sarcasm dripping voice. "What more do you want from me? My time is precious, ya know." Castiel shuddered. There was so much evil, so much malice, laced into that familiar voice, yet he stood his ground. He had to do this. He had to redeem himself. He had to save Dean.

"Sam-" Cas started, then stopped when Dean's eyes flashed black before continuing. "You're brother is very worried. He misses you." _I miss you._

"Well, I'm just tickled pink!" cried Dean, regaining his calm demeanor. "Or I would be. If I cared. Sammy isn't my brother. Maybe he used to be, but not anymore."

"But he loves y-" Cas began, but Dean cut him off.

"Wouldn't that he something if he was, though, eh? What would that make him? Prince of Hell? It's fitting, what with all the demon blood he's downed." A look of mock horror flashed across Dean's face. "You don't think he'll want to drink my blood, do you? That'd be weird."

"Damnit, Dean!" Cas shouted, his voice rising despite the fear running down his spine. "We need you. I need you! The real you, not this demon..." He took a step closer in a moment of sudden boldness, which he quickly regretted. Dean's eyes flashed black again and he rose from his throne, tall and menacing.

"You should treat your king," he drawled, "With a little more respect."

"Please," Cas said, quiter this time, and he could have sworn he saw Dean's eyes flash with pain, just for a second. "We care about you so much. We don't care what you've done. It doesn't matter." There. He definitely saw Dean's guard go down, just for a second. He took another very tentative step forward. Dean was silent, so he continued. "Haven't you always wanted a normal life? You can have that. Just you and Sam, in the bunker, happy. Let me help you."

"Where will you be?" Although Dean's voice was thick with false carelessness, he took a step forward with something close to concern in his eyes, if only for a second. Just as Colette was able to get to Cain, Cas knew he was getting through to Dean, if only just a little.

"Once I have helped you, I will have to go." Cas' eyes were so sad that Dean couldn't help but step forward yet again before blocking out his emotions.

"Where? Where are you going?" Dean's voice was still careless, but now tinged with worry. I can do this, Cas thought, this last thing.

"Do not worry about me, Dean."

"I'm not worried about you!" Dean scoffed, though his shell was quickly deteriorating. "It's just stupid and unnecessary for you to be an idiot. That's all."

"Why haven't you killed me?" Dean stared at Cas, speechless. "I am an angel, you are a Knight of Hell. If you didn't care, you would have killed me. It's only natural."

"I..."

"You care. It's locked away in your head, Dean, but you are still in there." Castiel was terrified, ice pouring through his veins, but he still took a step forward. He was right in front of Dean.

The King of Hell did not look very kingly at all. His face was a mixing pot of emotions. Anger, love, fear, but most of all, confusion, were written all over his features.

"Dean Winchester, I love you." And with that, Castiel crashed his lips to Dean's, eliciting a sharp gasp from the demon which turned into a moan of defeat. He rested his hands on the angels hips and kissed back like it was the last time he ever could, because the way Cas was acting, it might be.

Cas bunched Dean's shirt into his hands and pulled, molding their bodies together. Then he began. He took all the light inside his body, all the good and pure, and pushed. It was excruciatingly painful, but he never stopped kissing Dean. He couldn't. Soon his vessel's limbs were glowing with grace, which he continued to push out of his body. It spewed out of his mouth and eyes and chest and surrounded Dean in a shroud of purity which wound itself tighter and tighter around him. The throne room began to disappear around them, and as it did Dean broke the kiss and looked around in suprise. Suddenly, he gasped. The grace had plunged into his chest, untwisting and purifying his soul, and suddenly Dean knew. He knew he was a monster who tortured and killed hundreds of people. He knew he should have never taken the Mark of Cain. He knew he deserved to die, and he hated himself.

But Cas-Cas had saved him. Cas said...he said he would forgive Dean. But really, could he? After all the innocent souls Dean had condemned? Thick, hot guilt settled in his stomach.

"Cas," Dean whimpered, but there was no reply. He looked down. Cas' eyes were closed and his skin was pale. His grip on Dean's shirt suddenly loosened and his knees buckled, sending him sprawling on the floor of the bunker. "Cas!" Dean immediately fell to the ground besides Cas, cradling his torso. "Please-please, Cas, please don't die. You can't die." His voice was like broken glass, shattering, the shards sticking in his throat. He tried to swallow them down, but with no success. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks, and he bent his neck, touching his forhead to Cas'. It was funny in a sick way, he thought. All those years he had known Cas, and only now, holding the dead angel in his arms, did he realize the feelings he had always had. Through choked sobs, he spoke:

"I love you too, Cas."


End file.
